


Accidental Art

by StudMuffinBrat



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Artist Eren Yeager, Gang Violence, Gangster Levi, Gay, M/M, POV Eren Yeager, Rich Levi, Yaoi, ereri, gangster!Levi, photographer!eren, riren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4288770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudMuffinBrat/pseuds/StudMuffinBrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Yeager is a famed photographer, known for his nude portraits and their poetic meanings. Except, how is he expected to continue in his artistic career when he himself sees no artistic meaning in any of the pictures? Honestly, he was just there for the naked women and ridiculous amount of money. However, that all changes when he bumps into Levi Ackerman. Known to most of the world and all of the wannabe plutocrats in small-city Trost, Levi is a wealthy man who earns his living from his company, Shinganshina Inc. But there's another part of him, reserved for his 'private' dealings that's kept safely out of the public eye, and Eren is hellbent on discovering more about this mystery billionaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shitty Art

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic ever on A03, so since I'm basically a virgin to writing gay smut, pleeeeaaase go easy on me. However, I would appreciate some feedback on how to make my story better, or even just for typos. Thanks again, and enjoy! :)

 

 

       My eyes roamed the colored canvas, unsure of what to make out of the picture. Most people saw a poetic tilt to a scantily clad woman's hip as she faced stoically towards artistic tapestry. It bewildered me how people seemed to draw so many different messages and ideas from it. Some say she's naked to portray how bare she is to the rest of the world, and the shadow that falls over one of her shoulders and the other half of her body represents her two sides. Some say the fact that she's facing a plain wall with the only decor being a long strip of fabric with fruits painted onto it is a sign of how she would rather face the art of things than the actual reality, hence why she is faced away from the camera.

       But what bewilders me the most is my initials at the very bottom right corner, and even more the price right beside it. $10,600.

       "Eren! Long time no see!" A familiar voice called out. I turned around with a small smile and met an enthusiastic Armin speed-walking towards me. His blonde hair, once only falling right to his ears, now tied back and well below his shoulders. His petite frame hadn't changed much since high-school, but even his mid-sleeve dress shirt didn't cover the obvious slight muscle he had acquired throughout the years.

       "Armin! We haven't seen each other since the graduation party!" I exclaimed. He held out his hand for a formal handshake, but instead I went straight in for a bear hug. After all, that's what I've always been known for.

       "E-Eren! I would think becoming such a well-known photographer would have forced some manners onto you, at least!" Despite his strict tone, Armin let out a laugh and I chuckled as well.

       "I guess not, huh? So what has you here? I never thought I'd see you anywhere, much less an art gallery!" I exclaimed. Armin had always been the science and maths type. Despite being the stereotypical geek in high school, everybody seemed to love him. He was one of my best friends, and I guess you could say we had been pretty close. But almost immediately after graduation he had moved away to a fancy city with a fancy college on a fancy scholarship and I had already started my career as a photographer in Trost.

       "I work directly under the CEO of Smith Industries." My eyes widened in shock and a light blush settled over the blonde's cheeks.

       "Y-You're kidding! CEO? So Erwin Smith?! He's not just the CEO... he actually owns the company!" I said, remembering the name from the news and the front pages of magazines. He's constantly involved in fundraisers and is known as perhaps one of the kindest billionaire bachelors out there. How Armin managed to snag that one up is beyond me.

       "Yeah. Uh, I just happened to need a job, and we ran into each other at a restaurant and now..."

       "And now you're probably rolling in the big bucks and meeting all sorts of famous people, huh?" I finished for him with a knowing smirk. He blushed harder and nodded, awkwardly averting his eyes.

       "Well I'm proud of you, that's for sure!" I finished. I noticed a group of well-dressed women were approaching and I glanced back towards the painting, not quite willing to talk to anybody else. Especially not a bunch of cougars, ugh.

       "So...this is by you?" Armin asked, changing the subject, his cheeks still flaming with embarrassment at my praise.

       "I never pegged you as the artsy type in High school." He added honestly.

       "I'm not." I answered just as honestly. He raised an eyebrow incredulously then gestured with his eyes to the photograph hanging shamelessly on the wall.

       This one was unlike the first I had been critiquing. Another nude, but not nearly as barren. This woman was lying on a wood floor, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. One half of her face covered by a jeweled mask and the other half her hand, manicured but not colored due to the picture being in black and white. And peeking between her just barely parted pointer and middle finger was a mystic and alluring eye dressed heavily in eyeliner and mascara.

       "What do you see." I started.

       "Well, there's a model, with a mask-"

       "No, but what's the story? What do you take from it?" I clarify.

       "Um...well I guess if she's wearing a mask... why would she bother to cover the other half of her face with her hand? Maybe because she wears the mask in public, but when alone she still cant be true even to herself? And her legs are somewhat awkward, perhaps it signifies how she can't stand on her own feet? I don't know, literature and art were never my forte." Armin admitted. I smiled, understanding what he was getting at.

       "It's better than the gibberish the artists here try to pull out of their asses." Armin gasped at my bluntness, but at this point I didn't even care. It was the customers I was trying to impress, not the other snobs clad like 20 year old hipsters who like to think they're the next Van Gough's.

       "I don't see anything. In fact, all I see is a woman sprawled out naked on the floor with a shitty mask that looks like it could have been bought in the party section of the Dollar General store."

       "What are you trying to say?"

       "I don't take these pictures with an intent to make a story. I take these pictures to let others make a story. That's what makes me such a good photographer. Because I'm not artistic."

       "What a shitty explanation." A foreign voice said from behind. I turned around and came face to face with perhaps the most intimidating (and sleep deprived) looking man I had ever seen. Okay perhaps not so face-to-face. My head tilted down slightly when I realized the newcomer wasn't exactly average height, and his deep baritone falsely made him sound... taller.

       "Don't look down at me you fucking brat." he growled, his eyes narrowing when he caught the slight move of my head. I just realized his voice seemed to have a slight accent. Was he french?

       "E-excuse me?" I asked in mortification.

       "Er-uh-I have to go, um, Eren." Armin stuttered, staring at the shorter man in what looked like terror. I raised an inquisitive eyebrow but let him leave before turning my attention back to the short-stack in front of me.

       "You heard me. It's not polite to exaggerate someones height difference." He explained, the two men flanking him also seeming to be afraid of his wrath.

       "It's also not polite to call someone's art shitty." I retaliated. He seemed taken aback by my response but doesn't pause in taunting me.

       "I never said anyone's art here is shitty, I just said your explanation of it was." He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he glanced at one of my hanging portraits.

       "Though the pictures are shitty as well." I crossed my arms glared. I don't care if his dark undercut and petite features were extremely attractive. He was being an ass.

       "Those pictures are mine."

       "Not anymore." His immediate response had me reeling back.

       "Wait...what? Someone already bought them?" I asked in confusion.

       "Some poor guy bought all of them. Who knows what the idiot was thinking." I ignored the insult and began looking around. He wasn't kidding. Only two hours into the showing and already the masses were deflating. Only a quarter of the crowd that had been here an hour ago remained. If what he said was true, then not only was I going to be about $100,000 richer, but the gallery was going to close soon.

       "Who?" I asked thoughtlessly, my eyes scanning the room.

       "Me." I didn't hear him at first, or perhaps I wasn't paying attention, but after about two more minutes of my gaze searching the crowd of plutocrats my eyes snapped back to his and I reeled back in surprise.

       "Y-You!? But why would you buy art you thought was shitty?" I asked in both confusion and fury. Like hell I wanted my pictures to go to a dick like him who couldn't even appreciate them.

       "I have my reasons." His response was vague and I resisted the urge to wipe the smirk from is face. Instead I opted for politeness, after all, he was about to make me almost $100,000 richer.

       "Well in that case, I thank you for purchasing my shitty art, and hope you come again to the next showing." Venom dripped heavily from my words, my passive-aggressiveness morphing into just plain aggressive-aggressiveness as I formally held out my hand. His own encompassed mine and I not-so-gently jerked his hand in what could have been presumed as just a rough handshake from bystanders.

       "Oh, the pleasure was all mine. Can't wait to see more of your shitty art." Originally I was going to reply with a snarky comment, but all intelligent words left me when he winked.

       The little fucker actually winked.

       And oh god was it suggestive.

       Without another word he turned around and stalked from the wide showing room, two assistants following at his heels.

        _Holy s h i t._


	2. Shitty Brats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chapter in Levi's POV, including his background and why he bought the paintings. -Unedited-

        **LEVI'S POV**

        As usual, it was Monday morning and I was walking the streets. On the outside I would appear collected and flippant about the hectic city-life going on around me, but on the inside I was checking every alleyway, store, and library in the hopes that I would run into Annie. 

        Annie Leonhardt, also known as the leader of Gang Maria. There were rumors floating around that she had been doing deals on my turf, pushing my men around, and even disrespecting my name. Despite the large size of her gang, I knew she wouldn't be much trouble to deal with at all. She had combat skills, yes, but so did I. The one thing she was lacking, however, was strategy. She never thought ahead, she just acted. 

        And now she was going to pay the price. 

        Or so, that's what my mindset had been when I first began prowling the streets of Trost. Now it's been two hours of aimless walking in the biting November cold and I was getting tired and hungry. So I decided I would make one more stop, and if I didn't see her or any of her lackeys, I would head home.

        Which was a good thing, because just around the corner was the city's largest art and photography exhibit. Ah yes, large crowds of rich people. The perfect feeding grounds for lowly gang members. 

        I put on an air of confidence, calling to my men who were across the street. I never went anywhere without my bodyguards, Reiner and Bertolt. They may be fucking idiots, but they're ginormous idiots who could do a lot more ass-kicking without a gun than Hanji or Erwin could. 

        They followed me into the building. Thankfully they blended in with the expensive Armani suits I had tailored just for them. I figured if I was going to have them follow me around everywhere, I may as well have them follow me in style. 

        The atmosphere was boring, and the only interesting things in the room were the naked women hanging from the walls and the drunken rich housewives flirting with any man in sight. I sighed, having a feeling that none of Annie's men were going to be here, much less her herself. 

        But, despite my constant nagging and complaining, I found the atmosphere relaxing for a change. With quiet alternative music playing in the background and the steady thrum of conversation drifting through the air, I found myself walking around and actually  _enjoying_ myself as I looked at the photographs. 

        "I don't take these pictures with an intent to make a story. I take these pictures to let others make a story. That's what makes me such a good photographer. Because I'm not artistic." A voice wistfully explained. Almost immediately it clicked in my mind that this must be the owner of the paintings. As a snap decision, I brought Reiner close to my ear and muttered "Buy all of the nude portraits for me," before approaching the admittedly attractive photographer. 

        "What a shitty explanation," I intervened. The complete surprised and shit-fucked face he threw my way was almost enough to make me lose my composure. But then I remembered I'm Levi Ackermen, and I don't laugh. 

        But then when he fully turned around, his head dramatically dropped at a hint towards my obvious lack of height and all traces of wanting to laugh was gone. 

        "Don't look down at me you fucking brat," I growled out in irritation, my accent unconsciously slipping through along with my temper. 

        "E-Excuse me?" He asked, his face an expression of mortification. 

        His little blonde friend beside him stuttered some sort of goodbye before hurriedly walking away with his tail between his legs. Eren waved at his retreating figure before turning back around and fixing his gaze on me. I reiterated. 

        "You heard me. It's not polite to exaggerate someone's height difference." I heard shuffling feet behind me and figured it was Reiner, back already from purchasing the photographs. 

        "It's also impolite to call someone's art shitty." The little brat retaliated. I was surprised. Usually with just one look, I could send even the bravest of men scampering for their mother's. Hell, I've done that with Japanese mafia leaders. Yet here he was, his stupid emerald eyes looking at me with heated anger and his lips dipping down in apparent disapproval. 

        "I never said anyone's art here is shitty, I just said your explanation of it was." I explained, crossing my arms in front of me and letting my glaring mask slip off. I came in here with the intent of dethroning a rival gang leader yet here I am, purchasing over $100,000 worth of portraits just because I thought the photographer was cute. That, and one of the first things I had noticed was how thick the canvas of them were. Perfect for hiding vaults in the wall behind it.

        "Though the pictures are pretty shitty as well," I added with a thoughtful expression. I was never one to let a compliment remain a compliment. 

        "Those pictures are mine." He said, as though it'd be some big revelation. No, shitty brat, I was aware of this already. That's why I came over here. 

        "Not anymore." I replied. 

        "Wait, what? Someone already bought them?" The kid asked, sounding incredulous at the mere thought. I didn't understand why. Despite my lack of artistic abilities, I could tell these obviously held some sort of story behind them. Or, they were supposed to, anyway. Just not for the artist himself apparently. 

        "Some poor guy bought all of them. Who knows what the idiot was thinking."  _No kidding. What the hell was I thinking?_ I ignored my inner monologue while Eren's gaze drifted around the room. 

        "Who?" His voice was light and absent-minded, and I knew his question wasn't actually directed towards me. 

        "Me." I answered. It took a full two minutes, I shit you not, before what I said seemed to register and his stupid cerulean/emerald gaze snapped back towards me. 

        "Y-you?! But why would you buy art you thought was shitty?" He questioned, his expression a mixture of both apparent confusion and anger. So he didn't like the fact that I was the one who bought them, huh? 

        "I have my reasons." I said ominously. What a stupid fucking answer. I'm so stupid. What the hell kind of answer is that. That was so cheesy. 

        "Well in that case, I thank you for purchasing my shitty art, and hope you come again to the next showing." His words contradicted with his tone of voice and facial expression. Right now he looked about ready to eat me alive, and not in the way I wanted at all. His hand reached out and I cupped it with my own, both of us shaking the other's appendage in a not-so-gentle way. 

        "Oh, the pleasure was all mine. Can't wait to see more of your shitty art." I said, winking suggestively before turning on my heel and leaving.

         But just before I closed the door behind me, a streak of familiar blonde and cherry red lips entered my line of vision. I didn't hesitate to hightail it out across the street with my men behind me. 

        I had work to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make the story in both POV's since it'll really help the story line get going. But, if you think it ruins the story's theme, feel free to tell me and I'll switch back to it just being Eren's.


	3. Low-key gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren's gay af and so is Ymir and Christa and Jean and Marco and wow such gay v homo

        By the time I actually left the showing, all of the halls were empty and the only person left was my old high school photography teacher and director of the exhibit, Hanji Zoe. The walls were bare of any paintings and photographs, taken down an hour ago to be delivered to their new owners.

        "Hey, yaegermeister!" They called out, throwing an arm around my shoulders with a toothy, overly energetic smile. I grinned back, although I'm sure it appeared somewhat forced.

        "Hey, Hanji." I greeted.

        "So, I heard all of your nudes sold. again." She pointed out, pride shining in her glass-covered eyes.

        "Yeah, I guess." I scratched the back of my head, not really wanting to get back onto the topic of my photographs and where they probably ended up.

        "Wanna go out and celebrate? The usual squad will be there. And hey, you can call up Mikasa. Her shift ends at seven anyways, right?" I nodded. My sister and roommate, Mikasa, usually worked the night shift at the hospital as an intern (Which is arguably one of the most creepiest jobs if you ask me). It worked out pretty well because during the day she had the house to herself and during the night I did. But today she just happened to get the day shift and hey, if it meant she got to come out with us, I wasn't going to complain.

        "Yeah, sounds great! Let me run home and pick up Mikasa and we can meet at Wall Rose?" Wall Rose was a bar, right in the center of Trost. It wasn't that big or anything, but the beer was great and the workers were friendly enough.

        "Yep, sounds good to m- CONNIEE" The brunette dashed by me to greet the poor kid who was innocently sweeping the carpets, dressed in his usual janitor getup. He looked up and groaned at seeing the ecstatic director jumping in the air to glomp him. I turned around and headed for the door, a laugh escaping me when I hear Connie gasp out:

        "Hanji, I cant breathe god dammit!" The drive home is short, only taking about ten minutes even in my old, worn down Dodge Ram. When I pull into the driveway, as expected, I saw Mikasa's small Escape parked to where I had just enough room to pull up my Dodge right beside it. Grabbing my phone from the dashboard, I hurried to the front door only to find it unlocked.

        "Mikasa! What'd I tell you about locking the door!?" Was the first thing I said, sliding my shoes off and hastily unbuttoning my dress shirt. She walked into the hallway, her dark hair slightly askew and her pajamas wrinkled from sleeping.

        "Sorry. I forgot." She admitted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

        "Alright. Anyways, Hanji invited you to come celebrate with the gang at Wall Rose tonight, since all of my portraits sold." She took a moment to think and I not so subtly added, with a mischievous grin, "Cute girls will be there." I wiggled my eyebrows and she rolled her eyes.

        "Fine, I'll go. Just stop with the eyebrow thing. It's creeping me out." She agreed. I followed her wish and stopped with the suggestive eyebrow dance and continued to my room.

        "Get ready and I'll drive us there." Before she could give a response I was up the stairs and in my room, hurrying out of the suffocating suit I was forced to wear to each showing. If it were up to me, I would just wear the usual jean-and-shirt combo. But sadly, it was Hanji's exhibit, and her building, her rules. So in less than ten minutes I was changed and freshly shaven, which probably sets a new personal record for me. I jogged back down the stairs, taking two at a time, and ran into Mikasa in the kitchen.

        "You ready?" I asked, grabbing an apple as a quick snack for on the way there.

        "Yep." She dragged a small coat over her shoulders and together we left the house and entered the Ram. By the time we had pulled into the parking lot, it was nearing midnight and almost filled to the brim with other vehicles. I ran a hand through my slightly unkempt hair before deciding it was a lost cause and jumping out of the old truck.

        "Who all is supposed to be here again?" Mikasa asked, walking by my side as we neared the entrance.

        "Uh, she said the usual gang, so I'm assuming that means Jean, Marco, Sasha, Connie,Christa, and since Armin's in town, she probably forced-I mean invited- him to come, too."

        "Connie, Sasha, and Hanji all in one room together? And slightly intoxicated? This is going to be interesting." Mikasa noted with a small smile. I laughed, opening the rustic-looking door for her in the process.

        "Couldn't agree more. Ladies first?" I said in an overly jovial Engish accent while removing a pretend top hat and bowing. She rolled her eyes but nonetheless played along, doing a small curtsy and replying, in a creepily good southern accent, "Why I don't mind if I do." \

        Almost instantly the loud 90's rock music and loud slurred talking invaded my hearing. Like usual, the first people I saw were Hanji and Connie, sitting at the bar with wide, dopey grins and laughing obnoxiously. Didn't take them very long to get drunk, huh? Mikasa pulled on my sleeve and directed my attention to the other side of the bar, where I instantly spotted the group sitting in a giant booth in the corner.

        "Hey guys! Been a while, huh?" Everyone shouted out barely comprehensible responses before going back to chugging down their drinks and their various small conversations.

        "Hey Eren! Jean and I were just talking about you." Marco greeted warmly. Jean rolled his eyes, as if preparing to argue it but Marco not-so-discreetly elbowed him in the ribs and shut him up.

        "Really? What about?" I asked, pulling up a chair beside their end of the booth since there was no more room available. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Mikasa making a silent beeline towards Christa and a small, satisfied smirk crossed my lips. About damn time the two of them started talking more. I've been trying to hook my sister up with just about anyone. "We were wondering when you were going to finally get laid, and about the poor soul it'd be with." Jean teased, putting his arm over Marco's shoulders.

          "What do you mean by that?" I snorted, reaching for the heavenly-looking glass of beer sitting in front of Jean. The blonde swatted my hand away and glared before Marco interrupted.

        "It's just that you haven't been with anyone since Sophomore year high school. As your friends we're concerned abou-"

        "That and as your resplendently gay best friends, we've found you someone to cure your unwillingly-celibate lifestyle." Marco coughed, swallowing the chip he had just taken a bite out of at his boyfriends frankness.

        "Okay for one: where the fuck did you get a vocabulary, and two: who the hell says I need to get laid?"

        "The fact that you just asked that speaks for itself, Yaeger." Jean pointed out. I realized then how lame I actually sounded and internally groaned. My gaze flicked to Marco and he just gave me a sympathetic shrug.

        "Fine, fine. Who are you trying to set me up with?" I leaned across the table to get the drink again, this time Jean freely letting me take a chug probably out of pity. If that soulless, demonic horse was even capable of pity.

        "Actually, she should be here soon." Before I even had time to question further, Marco's face lit up with a wide grin and he pointed towards the front.

        "There she is!" I turned in my seat to see a medium-height brunette walk in, her dark hair thrown up in a carefully calculated bun and her tanned features adorned with barely any makeup. She wasn't anything special, no, but she wasn't too bad to look at either.

        "You guys don't even know if I'm gay or not." I pointed out while the newcomer was still out of hearing range. Marco's face fell momentarily and Jean rolled his eyes.

        "As if you could handle dick." Marco giggled, though a look of regret crossed his features and he turned to probably apologize for laughing. Sadly he wasn't able to because Jean quickly captured his lips in a brief but searing kiss and I rolled my eyes.

        "PDA." I grumbled. Damn, maybe I did need to get laid.

        "Your laugh is cute." Jean said simply when Marco asked-more like stuttered- for an explanation.

        "Oh, um, hey Marco." A voice intervened just loud enough to hear over the music. I raised my gaze to meet the girl's and smiled at her in greeting.

        "Hey pretty thing! So, this is the celibate hot mess we were talking ab-" Marco punched Jean in the shoulder, interrupting his obnoxious introduction.

        "Evening, Ymir. We wanted to introduce you to Eren, the guy we were talking about the other night. Eren, meet Ymir." I stood up and politely shook her hand.

        "Hey, nice to meet you." I greeted.

        "Nice to meet you, too." Her grip on my hand was surprisingly rough and I had no doubt that she was probably an "Alpha female" type. Which wasn't a bad thing, it's just that I already live with one back at home and there was no way I wanted to deal with yet another.

        "Wanna order a drink at the bar with me?" I suggested. Her eyes flickered across the busy bar before she finally nodded her response. She followed me towards the front of the room, where there was a wide collection of bar stools sitting in front of a greasy counter.

        "Hey so, um, first I would like to apologize for - "

        "I'm sorry but I'm a lesbian-" We both started and stopped at the same time.

        "You're... a... lesbian...?" I asked in surprise. She nodded her head, looking ashamed.

        "I'm so sorry, I haven't told anyone yet and Marco suggested going out with you and we all know how cute and charming he is and there was no way I could tell him no-"

        "It's fine, that's actually what I was about to say." I awkwardly wrapped my hand around the back of my neck.

        "I'm gay, too. I havent come out to my friends. They probably, at most, suspect me of being bi. It doesn't really help that I take pictures of naked women as a living..." I muttered the last part but I think she still heard. She appeared to be too relieved to make a comment, though, as she let out a huge dramatic breath.

        "Thank god! In that case, drinks on me." She said, shamelessly leaning across he counter to get the bartenders attention.

        "Yes, that'll be two Cosmos for me and the man." She ordered, smiling sweetly. The bartender got to work, getting out the glasses and filling them and doing whatever the fuck else it is that seemed to make Bartenders take fifty years to give you a drink.

        "Thanks," I said, smiling at her new found enthusiasm.

        The rest of the night was uneventful. Well, except for when Jean started stripping at the table and when Armin showed up and Hanji decided to tackle him to the ground... But other than that all we did was talk at the tables and get drunker as the night passed.


End file.
